The Path We Walk
by Schemer Skye
Summary: All their paths began somewhere. Snippets in the lives of Soul Reapers before they were Soul Reapers.
1. A Lady's Promise

"_On the first page of our storyThe future seemed so brightThen this thing turned out so evilI don't know why I'm still surprisedEven angels have their wicked schemesAnd you take that to new extremesBut you'll always be my heroEven though you've lost your mind"-_

Skylar Grey, Love the Way You Lie.

Before they were Soul Reapers…..

"Ran! Ran! Wake up! I got sometin' tah show ya," Gin's voice floated into her ears, as Rangiku stretched awake, rubbing sleep filled eyes.

"Whatcha want? I was tryin' tah sleep," she complained. She sat up and looked at her best friend irritated, " Whatevah' yah tryin' tah show me bettah damn well be worth it."

With his usual grin, Gin leaned back and placed a hand over his heart," Yah words wound mah."

"My fist'll wound more than yah heart," she threatened, standing up," Seriously, whodoya think yah are? Wakin' a lady up in the middle of huh beauty sleep."

" Whah lady? I only remembah wakin' you up," he said scratching his head like he was trying to remember waking up anyone else," and yah ain't no lady."

Rangiku pulled back her fist and went to slug him, but her caught her hand before it could break his jawbone. Damn him. One of these days she'd get a hit in on him. All she had to do was wait…..

" I am too a lady."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh"

"Uh-huh."

"_Nuh-uh."_

"_Uh-huh."_

"Ran," Gin exclaimed," ya ain't no lady cause ladies ain't flat chested."

"I am not flat chested!" Rangiku howled, trying to hit him again. Little bastard blocked it once again. She hugged her still developing body, she knew that her breasts were small but she was by no means flat chested. Besides, she was still growing.

"Eh, flat, small, ain't they the same thing?"

"That's it Gin!" she snarled, deciding if she couldn't hit him then she'd use an even more devious plan," When we're all growned up I'll have big breasts and let everyone else look at em' except for you! So, ha!"

Unsurprisingly, Rangiku never learned what Gin was going to show her that day.


	2. Empty Eyes, Beautiful Light

I don't even know the nameBut if I did, well, really, what's it to you?There's a blaze of light in every wordIt doesn't matter which you heardThe holy or the broken Hallelujah

-Hallelujah, Leonard Cohan.

Kiyone knew what they did for money was wrong, but she didn't feel ashamed. All she could feel anymore was a sense of numbness spreading through her body. Kiyone could see the despair in Isane's eyes everyday when she came home from work, self-loathing lurking in them as well. Her sister was too gentle, too fragile to be doing what she was doing. It was difficult to know which of the sisters had the worst job.

Kiyone the mercenary, killing heartlessly for anyone that would pay her. Blood was always splattered across her kimonos. Her face. Her hands. Her hair. Sometimes while she was hacking away at a victim a small spray would get into her mouth, sour iron on her tongue that she swallowed without a second thought. She didn't care who her bosses wanted her to kill anymore. Men. Women. Children. The children were the worst, their clouded eyes and screams for help ricocheting in her nightmares. The people hiring her simply knew her as her street name," Satsujin Kyo." Homicidal maniac. Ironic, because people who actually committed homicide had a reason. Hers was only money.

Isane the whore, because that's what she was. You couldn't doll up the profession with a fancy term such as ' prostitution'. She fucked people for money. The men loved her long silver hair, enjoyed to tug harshly on the silky strands while they rutted against her. They also hated how tall she was compared to most of them. Short-ass bastards, as Kiyone called them. She would lie there, pretend to enjoy their disgusting ministrations, give them whatever they wanted, and afterwards she would cry looking down at the meager money they had handed her. Mostly no tips. No one wants to tip the hooker. Her pimp gave her the show name," Mun-bi." Moon beauty. She wasn't beautiful. Isane was ugly, on the inside and out. No matter how much she washed and scrubbed, she would always feel dirty. Unclean.

"I don't think we have enough money for food tomorrow or the next day," Kiyone stated dully, facing away from her sister. They were bathing in a nearby river. It was cold and froze their toes. She cupped her hands in the water and poured it over her head, watching as the clear water turned a blackish color in the moonlight. So, her long hair was once again matted with blood.

"I'm sorry," Isane mumbled miserably," it's my fault. I shouldn't have given my money to those kids."

Kiyone didn't deny that, but she couldn't help feeling guilty. Her sister was too kind and soft hearted for this life. She was more suited to help people. That was why Kiyone was the murderer.

Isane hugged her towel tighter around herself, legs folded under herself as she sat at the edge of the river. She knew Kiyone was angry at her for donating the money, but Isane just couldn't help it.

She watched her sister sadly as the moonlight washed down upon Kiyone's matted dark blonde hair. Isane knew that within a week of being washed it would once again be soaked red, turning into a disgusting brackish color. She wished she had the guts to do the job Kiyone managed to do, but the thought of killing another person made her sick in the stomach. She felt like she was taking the cowards way out, selling her body.

Isane wished she were braver, like Kiyone was. Even now, while she covered up her body in a towel, her sister just strutted around naked as the day she was born, skin tight over her bones where every one of her ribs could be counted ; her hips and shoulder blades appearing as if one wrong move could slice through the flesh that cloaked it. Her sister wasn't eating enough. Neither was Isane, but Kiyone still made her eat more than she did. She didn't complain too much because she knew that the better she looked the more customers she'd get and the more money they'd have.

Kiyone pulled herself out of the water, tying her hair up with a frayed leather cord, slipping her scratchy kimono on. She wanted a new one, but they didn't have the money. They never had the money.

Kiyone wanted to take the easy way out, become a whore like Isane, but she knew that with her unappealing, bony, boyish, and slightly childish looks she'd be losing more money that they needed.

She heard Isane sigh, as her sister put her own clothes back on.

Neither sensed the Hollow in the brush.

Kiyone heard the screech, saw the white bonelike mask floating above her. Why did her head hurt? How did she end up on the ground? Isane screamed in the distance," Run! Kiyone! Run!"

For a brief instant, she wanted the Hollow to kill her. End her suffering. Fade into emptiness. The she remembered Isane, her beloved sister that would never survive without her.

She started struggling, wishing she had her sword, the damned bastard had her trapped between its skeletal paws. Kiyone stared into the deep recesses of the mask and was shocked to see very humanlike eyes staring back at her. Emotionless. Blank. They were her eyes. They were Isane's eyes. A living hell trapped inside those orbs.

Kiyone didn't want to die without ever knowing the glory of heaven. She wanted to be proud, to smile, to have confidence and friends. She wanted her sister to hold her head up high, be allowed to be selfless, and to love.

For the first time in her existence, Kiyone prayed to whatever god was listening to let her live.

Another flash of white-oh fuck, this one brought a friend- and the hollow was sliced in two, his blood raining down onto her body. Eyes, alive and actually seeing stared up at her savior. An angel in white. His hair was white, his haori was white, his skin was white. But his eyes were a gentle green, soft and fierce simultaneously.

Isane raced towards her sister, gathering the blood soaked girl into her arms. Was her sister all right? She quickly checked and was relieved to see that all the blood was the hollows and not Kiyone's. That's when she noticed her sister's gaze was not focused on her but rather at the Soul Reaper behind her.

He crouched down beside them, "Are you two alright?"

Kiyone just stared at him. Why was this angel talking to them? Couldn't he read the sins on their faces?

Isane answered demurely," Yes, we're fine, Mr. Soul Reaper, sir."

"Captain Ukitake!" a voice called from the dark woods.

"I'm sorry to leave, but my lieutenant is calling. Are you sure you're alright?"

Isane nodded vigorously, wanting him to go away. Not because she didn't like him but because she really needed to focus her attention on Kiyone.

After goodbyes were said, both parties left the river not knowing they were fated to meet again.

/

"I quit," Kiyone told Isane bluntly the next day.

"_What? _Why would you do that?" Isane exclaimed.

"Why? _Why?_," Kiyone sprang up, eyes livid," Because I'm tired of being dead! I'm sick and tired of the blood, the lies and ugh- I am sick and tired of my god damned hair!"

"What does your _hair_ have to do with anything?"

Kiyone snatched her sword up, stretching her ponytail taut, " It has everything to do with everything! It carries the innocent blood of children, my tears from crying myself to sleep, knots because I can't a afford a brush or else we won't have food."

Isane watched in fascination as Kiyone's hand quivered for an instant before she jaggedly cut into her ponytail, the part near the skull. It wasn't a quick snap, it was a long process going through the mats, but for each strand that fell away, Kiyone's eyes would gain more light, her face softening. Not smiling, but there was no longer a deadness there.

When the last piece fell away, her sisters hair was extremely short, cropped close to the skull and ridiculously uneven. She looked insane, but her eyes were peaceful as if the act had atoned for her sins. Isane wanted that peace, too.

" I will quit, too," she didn't know where the boldness came from, but it felt right. She grasped Kiyone's blade, it felt awkward in her hands. Isane struggled to lift her unbound hair into one hand and hold the sword in the other but she somehow found a balance. It wasn't like when Kiyone had chopped off her hair, the blade sliced cleanly except for one long strand that curled around her shoulder. The remains of her once waist length hair was coiled on the floor. It looked like a silver snake, but Isane wasn't afraid. She felt like the world was lifted off her shoulders. Everything evil would now be in her past.

" I could get that piece for you," offered Kiyone.

"No," Isane answered softly," I want it to remind me where I've come from so that way I'll never forget the first time I wanted to see light in darkness."

Kiyone grasped the sword, " I want to learn to defend others instead of killing them. I want to live in the warmth of life instead of bringing the darkness of death."

Neither grew their hair out again.


End file.
